


Wedding Vows

by beatofmywings



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Sherlock is sad, Unrequited Love, Wedding, but hes considerate, john doesnt love him back, john getting married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-09 13:59:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11670501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beatofmywings/pseuds/beatofmywings
Summary: Sherlock was forced to watch the only man he'd ever admitted to falling in love with marry another, but there was nothing stopping him for pretending for one moment that perhaps it was him returning the wedding vows.





	Wedding Vows

The room in which John and Mary had decided to get married in was in fact beautiful, Sherlock could admit that. The walls were of the same flowery yellow as the reception hall, the ceiling boasting a crystal chandelier that glittered in the early morning rays. Rows of perfect white seats adorned with lilac bows sat on each side, each holding a name to signify where the guests would be seated. Vases of lilac, white and green flowers stood in each corner of the room and behind where John and Mary would eventually be stood. The very thought made Sherlocks stomach turn uncomfortably. Even though he was tearing himself up and just wanted to escape the bright colours and happy smiles a little part of his brain couldn't help appreciate how perfect this wedding would be. After all, he had practically planned most of it. 

He could hear the rumble of peoples voices behind the door, waiting to take their seats either side of the carpeted aisle. It sickened him to think about how happy they all were, how glad they were that John Watson was finally settling down. He had tried countless times to be proud of his friend for finding someone so well suited to his life style, but it didn't matter how many fake smiles he plastered on his face or how many times he teased Mary, he just couldn't do it. He couldn't convince himself he was okay with all of this, because in reality his heart was broken beyond repair. 

He knew John would be different when he returned, people change and that was perfectly normal, but he hadn't expected to return to a home he now rented alone and to the man he loved marrying another. Someone that wasn't him. He was angry at John for finding someone he was ready to spend his life with so quickly, as if Sherlock had just never existed. Of course he understood that John hadn't and never will love him, but he'd thought it would have been a while until he'd date again after loosing someone close to him. That's how people normally react, so why had John been any different? Perhaps he had meant less to John than he thought, perhaps he only asked him to be best man because he pitied him. Sherlock knew he was being stupid and that idea alone repulsed him, but he couldn't escape the thoughts that had been littering his mind palace since he returned. 

He closes his eyes and massaged his temples, trying desperately to clear his mind of the acidic thoughts. He was here today because John asked him too, he wasn't about to ruin it because he couldn't stop thinking about the man when his wife-to-be was arriving in an hour. How repulsive could he get. Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder and shot his eyes open to see John bloody Watson himself frowning up at him, looking concerned and out of place in the happy atmosphere. Instantly Sherlock steeled his expression, but the look in Johns eyes told him he had already seen. 

"You alright?" He asked, removing his hand from Sherlocks shoulder now he'd got his attention. Sherlock tried not to flinch. 

"Yes, yes, fine." Sherlock brushed off quickly, forcing his face to smile. John stared at him for a moment but Sherlock refused to let his facade go that easily.  
"You sure?" John questioned.

"It's just a headache. I'm fine." Sherlock snapped back, annoyed that John wouldn't just leave him alone so he could pull himself together properly. His concern just made matters worse. 

"Okay okay" John replied, raising his eyebrows and his hands slightly with a smile on his lips. Sherlock couldn't quite understand what was so funny but chose to ignore it for his own sake. 

"Well just so you know we're seating the guests in five so if you want painkillers take them now." 

"I don't have any." Sherlock said quietly, not excited by the news that the wedding was actually happening and that he couldn't just hide in this room forever. 

"There should be some in my room," John answered, being his typical doctor self as usual. He reached into his tail coat pocket and pulled out his door key, holding it out for Sherlock to take. Sherlock sized his options up for a moment and came to the conclusion that perhaps some drugs and 5 minutes alone would help him, or at least give him time to calm his breathing as it had become slightly erratic. He took the card and cringed inwardly when he noticed the brush of his fingers against Johns, something unnoticeable to his friend but painful to him. 

"Thanks." He said then turned quickly and tried not to speed walk out the room. Once he was in the corridor and far enough away from the voices he lent against the wall and took a deep breath, brushing his curls out his eyes and clenching his fist. He had to stop before he ended up doing something he regretted. He wouldn't ruin today for John, he wouldn't do that to him.

Pushing himself off the wall he set out for John's room, having memorised its specific location in case the opportunity arose where he would have to visit. Or perhaps just because it was John's room, he couldn't quite decide. He arrived within a minute and stood outside staring at the plaque on the door which read 'Bride and Groom'. Sherlock wondered briefly what the managers of the building would do if it were he and John staying in there instead, perhaps they'd be moved to a separate room or maybe one of them would be named bride for the day. He could just picture the look on John's face as he laughed over calling Sherlock his bride.

Pushing away the thoughts he slid the key in the lock and walked inside, closing the door behind him. He took in the rather luxurious room with its balcony and king size bed and even more flowers before scowling and walking into the bathroom, hunting for the first aid kit so he could leave as soon as possible. He didn't know why he thought coming here would be a good idea, he just wanted to cry. 

The first aid kit was in the cupboard under the sink and it didn't take long for Sherlock to find some ibuprofen and down three of them, foolishly hoping the extra one would cure his heart as well as his head if he willed it to. He placed his hands on either side of the sink and looked at himself in the mirror, observing the pale yellow tie and the white rose clipped to his blazer. Lifting his eyes to his face he observed his paling skin, which looked milky even for him, and his shaking bottom lip. His self control was ebbing away, the stress of the last few months finally catching up on him. He couldn't do this. He was Sherlock Holmes and he couldn't even stand beside his best friend at his wedding without making it an issue. This wasn't like him, he had managed for all those years to deal with John bringing home woman after woman without breaking down. But this woman was permanent, the rest had just been distractions to John and now he had found someone who would distract him for the rest of his life. She made him normal and Sherlock made him an outsider, she was 100 times better than Sherlock could ever be. 

Biting down on his lip hard to keep back the threat of tears he tore his eyes away from the mirror and left the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him. He wanted to break something, wanted to crack the mirror or smash the vase or throw himself though the window just to get rid of the feeling of being trapped in his own mind. He tore his hands through his hair and spun in a circle, not sure what he was looking for but needing something to ground him back in place just for one small moment of peace.  
His eyes landed on one of John's shirts hanging up on the wardrobe, and for some reason he couldn't stop looking at it. He'd seen John wear it a thousand times before as he hardly ever bought himself new clothes, but there was something nagging in the corner of his mind. 

Then it clicked. 

The shirt hanging up on John's wardrobe was the same one he had worn the very first day they had met, with the blue stripes and white buttons just as they had been on the 29th of January all those years ago. Before Sherlock had messed up and when it was just him and John against the world. But now everything hurt and he wasn't okay and there was nothing that was going to make this better. Not this time and not ever again. Sherlock was sick and tired of hurting over John, he was done with being vulnerable and in love with someone he couldn't have. But he couldn't stop it, he had let sentiment win without even knowing there was a war taking place. He thought maybe if he glared hard enough at the shirt he could burn holes in itso that he wouldn't have to be reminded of what was lost when he walked onto that rooftop. 

Leaving the room wasn't the hardest thing Sherlock has had to do, having almost committed suicide twice, however it definitely made the top ten. He closed the door behind him without glancing at the plaque and walked away, pledging to himself never to return unless the room was literally on fire with John inside it. He arrived back in the main room just as the final guests were being seated, mostly the late ones who didn't really like Mary or John but were just there for the free food afterwards. He found John standing at the back of the room talking to the priest and decided he may as well go over to him seeing as he only knew about 4 people in the room and didn't want to be stuck talking to Molly. John caught him walking over and smiled brightly, excusing himself from the priest and walking to meet him.

"Feeling better?" John asked, referring to his headache from earlier. Sherlock was in no way feeling any better, in fact he felt worse, but John wasnt to know that.

"Shouldn't you be taking a day of from being a Doctor?" Technically he hadn't lied to John, just avoided answering the question.

"Probably. Maybe it's just the nerves." John sighed, but the smile on his face contradicted his words. 

"You're nervous?" Sherlock asked, curious as to why someone who's been loved by ladies his entire life was suddenly nervous to actually marry one. 

"A little, but that's normal. Mary's probably fussing about thinking she's written the wrong day on the invites or something." 

"That's ridiculous, I wrote them." Sherlock replied with a small smile, momentarily forgetting all that was about to come when he was with John.

"Of course you did. How is it you've planned more of my wedding than I have?" John asked with a chuckle, smiling up at Sherlock as if this were just another normal day. 

"Mary trusts me more, and besides I have much better taste." Sherlock teased.

"Hey, I'll have you know jumpers are extremely comfortable and warm at the same time." John shot back, catching onto sherlocks train of thought. 

"Yes, but they're also hideous." 

"No they're not!"

"I regret to say they are."

"Mary likes them!"

"No she doesn't." John shoved him gently with his shoulder and Sherlock grinned, knowing he'd won this one. 

"Well, not all of us can afford to wear high end suits everyday." John said, motioning to Sherlocks outfit which wasn't very different from his usual attire.

"It's not my fault you spend all your money on milk." Sherlock answered, recalling the hundreds of times John had gone out just to buy milk.

"Tea is an important part of my day, I'd rather have that than a tail coat." Sherlock scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"I don't wear a tail coat, it's just a blazer." 

"And a dress shirt and the coat." John continued for him, smiling when Sherlock scoffed again.

"Fine, I dress to impress. So what?" Sherlock asked, but before John could answer the moment of bliss was lost as the minister butted in to tell him Mary had arrived and would be coming in soon, so he had better take his place at the alter. Immediately Sherlocks smile fell and the realization came crashing back, but he forced his face to stay happy for John. Said man turned back to him and smiled.

"Right, so you'll be standing next to me on my left and the bridesmaids will be next to Mary on her right." He confirmed.

"I know." 

"And you'll be standing the whole ceremony but you can sit down when we go to sign the documents, there's a chair reserved at the front for you next to my cousin in the black shirt." 

"I know John." Sherlock replied, noticing how nervous John really was but equally how excited he was too. 

"Okay, well let's go then." John finished and led them to the front of the room. They stood in front of everyone and Sherlock could feel the eyes on him as people wondered why he was best man when John had other friends he'd known longer and hadn't been dead for 2 years. He caught Lestrades eye who gave him a thumbs up, but he quickly looked away. He glanced at John who's eyes were scanning round the room, his hands playing with the bottom of his jacket and his weight shifting from one leg to the other.

"Just breath John. It's only Mary." Sherlock said quietly, and John looked at him and nodded with a small smile. 

"It's only Mary." John repeated, straightening his tie to give his hands something to do. After 34 tense seconds the priest stood forward and asked for the crowd to stand. A lump formed in Sherlocks throat but he swallowed it down, shooting John the biggest smile he could manage then standing tall and waiting for the doors to open. 

Music started playing out the speakers in each corner of the room, a soft melody on the violin that for once wasn't played by Sherlock. He had recommended it though, silently thinking it would be the piece he would chose for his own wedding, and John had liked it so there they were. Listening to a piece of music Sherlock had chosen if the roles were reversed and it were he about to walk through those doors. 

Without warning the doors opened and a little toddler in a lilac dress walked out besides one of the bridesmaids, whom he couldn't actually remember the name of. She was holding a little basket and throwing white petals on the ground, a huge grin on her face as people whispered how pretty she looked and how well she was doing as she waddled past.   
The next to walk down was the other two bridesmaids, the maid of honour at the front and the other following closely behind. They too were wearing lilac dresses with a big purple bow on one side. Sherlock considered the dresses to be on the wrong side of unique, but Mary had chosen them and it wasn't his place to tell John's partner he thought her taste was horrid. 

Finally the bride herself stepped through the doors, her blonde hair laced with flowers and her veil trailing along behind her. Her dress was of an off white colour, not quite fitted but still long and elegant, with little flowers down into the lace. John's father was leading her down the aisle as Mary was an orphan, but he seemed as happy as a father would as they slowly neared the front of the room. Mary caught sherlocks eye and raised her eyebrows, a giant smile on her face. Sherlock smiled slightly in return and watched as John's father handed over his soon to be daughter-in-law to his overjoyed son. 

The look of John's face was contagious, he was smiling as if he were a blind man seeing colours for the first time and Sherlock couldn't help but smile with him. He was happy for John, he had to make himself happy for John because if there was one thing that was more important than Sherlocks emotions it was his. 

John linked hands with Mary and turned slightly away from him so he couldn't see his face anymore, which annoyed Sherlock slightly but outside he didn't show it. The priest stood before them smiling widely, clearly loving his job, and asked everyone to sit down. It was at this point that Sherlock zoned out as he didn't want to hear how much John and Mary should love each other for the rest of their lives, he didn't think he could bare to hear John profess his love to someone else. The ceremony was supposedly around 30 minutes long and he wasn't prepared to stand here for 30 minutes so close yet so far away from the man he loved. 

It dragged on longer than Sherlock had estimated, but eventually they reached the part where John and Mary had to say 'I do.' That was when Sherlock started listening. A lump formed in his throat as he listened and suddenly he could no longer breath normally.

"Do you, John Watson, take Mary Morstan to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold her from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, until death do you part." The priest read, looking at John over his glasses as he finished. Sherlock couldn't see John's face but he could picture perfectly the look of joy. Suddenly the crowd laughed and Sherlock realised John was probably acting hesitation, receiving a warm glare from Mary and a laugh.

"Yes, of course I do." John finally said, squeezing Mary's hand lovingly. Sherlocks stomach felt like a tornado, twisting and writhing in pain. He tried to distract himself from what was happening, to imagine being anywhere but this room. He imagined being in Baker Street with John, watching James Bond and resting his feet on his lap and John absentmindedly played with his trousers. He imagined running through the streets hand in hand with John and John pulling him closer when he leapt over the fence before him, the only thing stopping their faces from touching being the cold iron bars. He imagined waking up beside John on a cold morning when the boiler was down and they slept in the same bed to stay warm, as John's room was always freezing anyway. He imagined their first kiss in the armchairs at 221B, John smelling of tea and mint and fabric softener. He imagined getting down on one knee and asking John to be his and his only, and standing up to kiss him when he said 'oh god yes.' He imagined walking down the aisle himself with his brother forced to sit on one of the white chairs, watching as his little brother found love after all. He imagined standing right where Mary was, holding hands with the only person he'd ever loved and saying the vows that he meant with all his heart. He wanted it all, but it was so far out of reach that he may as well still be dead. 

He would never get the chance to say I do or cut the cake of have his first dance because there was no one else he wanted to experience it with. There was no one quite like John Hamish Watson. Maybe he could just say it, say it without John hearing it or feeling the same but still getting the chance to say it anyway. Maybe it would help, maybe closure was what he needed to move on. Maybe saying those two little words would make him realise he didn't need a wedding vow to be happy. Or maybe he would say it just because he wanted to, because out of everything he's been through nothing hurt more than this. 

The priest was halfway through reading Mary's line when Sherlock zoned back it. He could feel adrenaline pumping through his veins, his heart beat speeding up to a dangerously high tempo, his fingers twitching behind his back. He couldn't do it, couldn't bring himself to say the words. 

"...poorer, in sickness and health, until death do you part." The priest finished, this time turning to Mary expectantly. She looked at John with love in her eyes, smiling softly as if deep in thought, and opened her mouth to speak just as Sherlock did.

"I do."

"I do..." Sherlock whispered under his breath, lips barely moving but sound still escaping. To him it sounded loudly throughout the room, but no ones facial expression changed and no one turned to look at him in horror, his words simply fading into the distance as if they never existed. 

Except he didn't feel relieved

or happy

or fulfilled

or at least content

He simply felt regret and cold, mind numbing panic, because at that exact moment Johns shoulders tensed and his hand that wasn't holding Mary's twitched. That wasn't a normal reaction to the person you loved agreeing to marry you, but it was a perfectly sound reaction to your best friend pretending they were marrying you instead. Putting what he had done into words made him feel ridiculously stupid and petty, as well as sick and feeling like he might throw up at the same time. John had heard him. John had heard him mutter the words that belonged to his wife and ruined his wedding day. John would never forgive him and Sherlock didn't deserve forgiveness, not this time, not ever. 

He wanted to run, wanted to flee the room where he had ruined it all and never return. Wanted to go back to Barts and replay that scene on the rooftop over and over again just to delete this moment from ever happenning. He was humiliated and on the verge of tears and heart broken and alone and afraid. So, so afraid of how John will react. What if he hit him. What if he refused to ever speak to him again. What if he completely threw him out of his life and returned to the time Sherlock Holmes was dead and buried, beneath a lonely black gravestone at the back of a lonely graveyard full of lonely people, in which John would not be one of them. Mentally his head was burning up, malfunctioning and unable to deal with the torrent of emotions.

But on the outside he was stone, his face carved into a smile while his eyes showed the pain deep within. A mask he had built over the years and had only taken off for few people, and today John would not see that mask revealed. He would deny until he took his last breath, tell John he must have heard wrong and say no more. He couldn't let John know, he wouldn't. 

In the time Sherlock had been stuck in his panic induced state the ceremony had finished and everyone was clapping apart from him, overjoyed at the joining of now Mr and Mrs Watson. Throughout all his panic the names still tore at his heart, reminding him once again of his wounds still bleeding after all this time. 

He turned his head slightly and was mortified to catch John's eye when he had turned around to thank the audience with a smile. John's eyes told him all he needed to know about his situation as his smile dropped slightly. 

You're in trouble and you know it. 

Sherlock looked away quickly and focused his attention on the ground, counting the lines of the wood floor in order to distract himself. It didn't work and the panic was overwhelming, he was beginning to see white at the edges of his vision and his head felt fuzzy and separate from his body. Someone tapped him on the shoulder and Sherlock looked up as John lent closer to whisper words in his ear he didn't want him to ever say.

"Take a seat and calm down. We'll talk later." He said bluntly, and as soon as he'd finished walked away, taking a seat besides Mary so he could sign the legal documents. Sherlock collapsed as gracefully as he could into his seat, sighing in relief when he didn't have to focus on actually looking moderately sane in front of an audience anymore. He closed his eyes and ignored the voices around him, going over maths equations in his head to find his bearings. His mind palace was a mess, whirring with thoughts and people shouting angrily at him in the distance, distinctly sounding like the voice of Mycroft. He still couldn't process why he'd done it, or why he even said it out loud instead of just in his head. No one else has heard except John, the one person who he'd wanted to hear it the least. He hadn't been thinking properly, caught up in the adrenaline rush and rebellion against his own rules, daring himself to say the words he knew wouldn't mean anything. Except now they did because John had heard them and was probably getting ready to kick him out the wedding as soon as possible. 

Sherlock sat there for what felt like forever until it was time for the guests to go outside for photos, something he didn't know if he could stomach. As John and Mary started their way down the aisle and everyone clapped Sherlock fulfilled his role as best man and stood up to walk behind them, followed by the bridesmaids and then eventually the guests. He kept his distance from John as they walked through the building then out through the heavy wooden doors sat firmly in a wall of stone, where the photographer was waiting to snap some photos. Sherlock couldn't think about anything, this time not even bothering to plaster a smile on his face. 

He stood holding his hat as the bridesmaids threw confetti over the couple, looking at the camera but doing nothing more. He allowed himself to be directed next to Mary and allowed the camera man to boss him around and ask him to pick up his hat. He allowed the children to stand beneath his feet in the group photos, not reacting when one stood on his foot. Even though he was next to John in most of the photos he may as well have been invisible for all the attention he paid him. Sherlock didn't care anymore, the strain of keeping up his happiness was starting to be too much. Sherlock didn't even notice when he was meant to move out the photo, having to be asked by John before he came to his senses and backed away. He patiently waited for the bridesmaids and Mary to take their private photos, then it was his turn to have one with John.

He slowly walked over and stood only just next to him, his posture stiff and straight backed. John glanced at him before sighing and moving closer, his arm brushing against Sherlocks and sending shock waves to his brain. He was standing slightly in front of him, probably so that he appears taller in his photos, and his weight was ever so slightly pressing against Sherlocks chest. Sherlock looked down at the man in front of him instead of the camera, shocked that he even wanted to be near him, let alone take a photo. The camera clicked and Sherlock was still looking at John, unaware of his surroundings for a brief second. 

"The cameras over there Sherlock." John said quietly, obviously feeling eyes on him. Sherlock mumbled something close to an apology and looked up at the camera, not smiling but not frowning too much. The cameraman gave them the thumbs up and Sherlock stepped away, awkwardly fumbling with his hat and not knowing what to say, too humiliated to come up with anything worth John's time. John turned to him with a frown, looking unsure of something.

"Stay here, I'll be back after the other photos." John requested, staring at Sherlock and forcing him to make eye contact. Sherlock simply nodded and that was all John needed as confirmation before he walked off to join his wife once more. Mrs Hudson got a photo, Molly and her new partner got a photo, John and his ex-commander had a photo all to themselves and then finally John and Mary took some private photos, drawing an end to the session. Sherlock stayed where he was the whole time, watching without seeing and feeling so many emotions he was numb. 

Finally the guests went back inside but in a different direction to the wedding room, instead towards the reception. Only a few lingered to talk to John and Mary, but then after another few minutes it was just the three of them left outside. Sherlock watched as John said a few words to Mary, kissed her softly then she too went inside, leaving them alone in the silence. He stayed stood where John had left him, watching carefully as John stood staring at the door Mary had walked through, clearly in deep thought. Then he turned and smiled at Sherlock sadly, the last thing Sherlock thought he would do in a situation like this. 

"Let's go inside." John called out, not waiting for a reply and heading inside the building too. Sherlock contemplated just legging it and never facing John again, but he couldn't bring himself to do it so instead crossed the courtyard and entered the building. John was waiting inside and as soon as he saw Sherlock following him continued down the corridor they had recently walked up and back into the wedding room. He went up to the very front and stood exactly where he had been standing before when he had recited his vows, looking at Sherlock expectantly. 

Sherlock swallowed and walked up the aisle, trying not to think too hard about what was happening, and stood behind John exactly where he had been before, fully understanding what was happening. John didn't turn around to look at him when he spoke.

"Remember when we were at that Christmas party before you left?" John asked, no signs of anger in his voice but something undetectable.

"Yes." Sherlock answered quietly, hating how vulnerable he sounded.

"You we're making deductions about Molly and playing the violin and muttering about people beneath your breath when you thought no one could hear you." John stated, still with his back turned. Sherlock didn't know how to reply to that so he just stayed quiet. 

"But I could hear you, I can always hear you. Maybe it's because I recognised your voice over everyone else's or maybe I just have good hearing, but that's besides the point." John stated, finally turning around to stare at Sherlock pointedly. 

"Then what is... what is the point?" Sherlock replied, his voice breaking mid sentence and forcing him to swallow his emotions back. So much for keeping it together.

"I can always hear you." John repeated again, his mouth setting into a firm line. Sherlock was silent, refusing to make eye contact because he knew it would break him.

"I don't really know how to say this, and it's not something I really imagined myself ever having to say so don't be snarky. But why, in gods name, did you say it? And don't pretend you have no idea what I'm talking about Sherlock because by the look on your face earlier we both know that's not true." John asked, his voice rising slightly. Sherlock refused to answer, the floor seeming like his safest option as his eyes welled with tears. He wouldn't cry in front of John, not when this was his fault to begin with. 

"Sherlock, don't make me ask you again." John said cooly, anger now evident in his voice. Sherlock remained silent still, forcing back the tears that threatened to fall.

"Sherlock." Silence. 

"Sherlock look at me." Silence.

"Sherlock I swear to god." Silence.

"LOOK AT ME." John shouted and Sherlock's head shot up in surprise, a tear escaping from his eye and sliding down his cheek. This was it, this was the end of everything they'd been through, this was the end of Sherlock and John.

"Why?" John asked, his tone softer than before but still laced with anger. Sherlock just shook his head, unable to look away but still refusing to come clean. He'd read that confessions helped, but in this case he sincerely doubted that. 

"Don't you think I have the right to know? I just got married for christ's sake!" John argued, dragging his hand through his perfectly combed hair. 

"I can't." Sherlock forced out, another tear dripping down his cheek. 

"Why not?" John demanded, stepping forward slightly.

"You know why." Sherlock whispered, pleading with his eyes for John to let him go.

"I'd like to hear you say it." John said through gritted teeth, glaring at Sherlock mercilessly. Sherlock didn't know what to do, he was trapped in this room being forced to reveal the secret he'd kept for so long. He didn't deserve this, he didn't deserve this, he didn't deserve this. His hands were shaking and his heart was beating in his ears and John was swaying, or was he swaying? He couldn't be sure. His breaths were coming out too fast and he couldn't get enough oxygen into his lungs, he couldn't stop his knees from buckling. He was so weak, he wasn't himself anymore. John had brought him down and he was falling too fast.

"Sherlock? Sherlock breath." John said, his face going from angry to concerned in a millisecond. But John didn't understand, Sherlock physically couldn't breath and he was panicking, gasping for air when his lungs weren't listening. 

"Just stop thinking, it's okay. Look at me and just breath." John said through the haze, and Sherlock sought out his eyes and focused on them only. 

"Just breath, it's okay. I've got you, I'm not going to hurt you." John said soothingly, it was only now Sherlock realised John was steadying him with his arms.

"You already have." Sherlock said between breaths without thinking, his eyes widening when he realised what he'd said. John's eyes widened too but he didn't step back, instead just watched him as he composed himself slightly. 

"How did I hurt you?" John asked, oblivious as ever. Sherlock knew he couldn't escape this, he could either confess or anger John further by refusing to tell him something he did have the right to know.

"You moved into 221B Baker Street. You became my friend. You made me feel. You made me human. And then-" Sherlock took a deep breath, maintaining eye contact with John as he said the words that he promised himself he'd never say.

"You made me fall in love with you."

If it had been any other situation Sherlock probably would have laughed at the faces John made, going from shocked to confused to utter denial and then back to confused. But this wasn't any other situation and it certainly wasn't amusing in the slightest, more going along the lines of downright terrifying.

Sherlock didn't know how John would react, which was surprising as he could usually read him like a book. Perhaps John had broken his brain too. The silence stretched on painfully, almost so piercing that if a needle had dropped it would echo round the room like a marching band.

"Me?" John asked, catching Sherlock off guard. Now it was his turn to be confused, it wasn't like he wasn't clear. Sherlock just nodded, afraid if he opened his mouth only a sob would come out.

"But... why-why me?" John asked, searching sherlocks eyes for an answer. Sherlock had no reply to that, not understanding why John was finding it so difficult to understand that someone could fall in love with him.

"What do you mean?" Sherlock replied, relieved when his voice sounded fairly even.

"Well... you're Sherlock Holmes, a genius, a psychopath, Mr married to his work... and just you. Why would you lo- be interested in me?" John struggled to put what he meant into words but Sherlock understood well enough.

"You're my best friend. The only friend I've ever had. You don't look at me like I'm a freak... you- you just look at me like I'm... I'm Sherlock. Not even my own parents do that." Sherlock confessed, not being able to deal with John's gaze any longer and dropping his eyes to the floor.

"You're not a freak Sherlock." John replied, his voice soft.

"Don't." Sherlock replied, gritting his teeth.

"Don't what?"

"Don't act like this is okay. I just told you I loved you, why aren't you angry?" Sherlock said, more tears welling in his eyes.  
"If I was angry would it make you feel better?" John asked instead.

"Probably not." Sherlock said honestly, peeking at John for a split second.

"Then I'm not going to get angry, it's not like it's something you can help." John murmured. 

"I tried. I tried so hard to ignore it and pretend it wasn't there but I couldn't. Even after I jumped off that building I couldn't make it go away, seeing you at my grave in so much pain just made it worse and I'm sorry. I'm sorry, please just forgive me." Sherlock said, desperately trying to get John to understand that he never wanted this to happen, he never wanted to fall in love with someone he could never have. 

"Don't say that, you don't have to say sorry for feeling Sherlock, you're human despite what you may think." 

"I just want it to go away, I don't want to hurt anymore." Sherlock confessed, looking back up at John's expression which was a mix of pity and remorse. He took a few steps forward and pulled Sherlock closer, his hands wrapping around his back and his face in his neck. Sherlock was too upset to be surprised, just accepting the hug and resting his head on top of John's. He wasn't relieved that John knew, but he was relieved that John had just accepted it like a solider and done the honourable thing.

"How long?" John asked, his voice slightly muffled by sherlocks shirt. Sherlock didn't want to tell the truth, but now that everything was out in the open he had no dignity to fight for now anyway. 

"Since meeting Moriarty in the pool." He mumbled, ashamed of how petty he sounded. John pulled back to stare at Sherlock is disbelief.

"Bloody hell Sherlock, that's got to be at least 4 years!" He said, trying to work his head around it. 

"I suppose. It went quicker whilst I was... away." Sherlock said, feeling mildly sick as he reminded John of his 'death.' 

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I couldn't. I didn't plan on ever telling you."

"But why?" 

"It would have put you in even more danger if Moriarty found out, sentiment is a chemical defect found on the losing side and... And- I- I knew I had no chance anyway." Sherlock said, defeat evident in his voice. John looked torn for a moment, but then he shook his head and the emotion changed to pity once more. 

"I'm sorry." John said, watching Sherlock as he suffered and wishing he could do something to fix this all.

"It's not your fault." 

"Well... it sort of is." John replied awkwardly. Sherlock did agree with his words slightly, but he'd never say that out loud. They stood there in silence for a moment until John stepped back fully, only slightly leaning forward to straighten Sherlocks tie, making the detectives heart clench painfully. 

"I guess we'd better go back, Mary will be wondering where we are." John said, fixing his hair back in place the best he could. It still wasn't right though, but Sherlock resisted the urge to fix it for him. 

"I'll be there in a moment, I just have to go to the bathroom." Sherlock muttered, regret still pooling in his stomach. John watched him for a second before sighing, a sad smile crossing his features.

"Alright, don't be too long." At that John turned around and head out the room, the door closing loudly behind him. 

And Sherlock just stood there, tears slipping down his cheeks and his heart broken into a million pieces by the one man he'd ever been able to call his friend.


End file.
